A trip to Russia
by Pidraya
Summary: William Decker and Gibbs butt heads over an op, and Gibbs meets Petrov - a character mentioned by Callen in Season 6 - on a trip to Russia.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note:**

I thought Gibbs became quite defensive in _Judgement Day_ when Mike Franks said "I hear Decker had a thing for the ladies" and "Decker knew something you didn't."

This story seeks to explore that a little bit.

Russia is a federation made up of 83 subjects. Of these, 46 are provinces known as _**oblasts**_.

_**Petrov **_was mentioned in _Legend _(Season Six) as someone who had worked regularly with Gibbs and Callen in Russia. It is unclear when Gibbs saved his life, but I've decided that it wouldn't hurt to have him make an appearance in this story. No first name was ever given – so I've chosen one I like.

_**Valentina Tereshkova **_was a Russian cosmonaut, and the first woman in space. She was born in a village in the Yaroslavl Oblast.

_**Swallows **_– beautiful women recruited by the KGB, and trained as female spies to seduce men.

* * *

_**Naples Headquarters, Italy**_

_**August 30th, 1998**_

People shifted uncomfortably behind their desks as smatterings of the argument travelled out from behind closed doors. Callen hovered outside the conference room; not foolish enough to interrupt even though he'd been sent to get coffee. Moments later William Decker stormed out of the room, practically knocking the beverage out of his hands. The young agent made his way warily inside, and wasn't surprised to discover that his mentor looked about as happy as Decker.

Gibbs took the proferred coffee without looking up.

"Pack your bags," he grunted. "We're leaving for Russia."

"I'll tell Jenny," Callen said with a nod.

"It's just you and me." Gibbs' expression was thunderous but he didn't offer any more information. Instead he took a long draw from the cup, found the contents distasteful, and trashed it with enough force to spill it everywhere. When Callen didn't move, he added, "still here?"

The young agent beat a hasty retreat.

"Tell Ducky I want to see him," Gibbs called as he reached the door.

"He's looking Jenny over."

Gibbs nodded and pushed back on his chair, trying to stifle his irritation.

_**In another part of the building ...**_

Ducky patted Jen on the shoulder.

"I recommend drinking lots of water and taking it easy for a while. I take it you have a few days reprieve?"

"She does."

They both looked up to find Decker standing there.

"Can you give us a moment, Dr. Mallard?" he said pointedly.

Ducky wanted to say that this was _his_ space, but something about the hostility in Decker's tone made him nod and leave the room without a word.

"The team's going to Russia," Decker said as soon as he was gone. "_Without you_," he added as she started to get to her feet.

"On what grounds?"

"That you don't speak Russian," he spat. "And just for the record, it wasn't _my_ decision."

"No, it was _mine_."

Decker flinched slightly at the sound of Gibbs' voice.

"Agent Shepard, a word .." Gibbs said as he stood aside, waiting for Decker to leave.

"We'll catch up later, Jenny," Decker said before turning away. "I need to go over a few things with you."

The door closed and Jenny raised an eyebrow.

"Come to tell me the real reason I'm not going to Russia?"

Her mind swung between the most likely explanations – none of them good.

Either he was concerned following her reaction to his killing Bessie or he was creating distance between them after what had happened in Marseille.

"What'd Ducky say?" he asked instead, breaking into her thoughts.

"Mild heat exhaustion," she said almost inaudibly. "Why are you avoiding my question?"

"Decker already told you why. Bessie had a KGB background. I need agents who can speak Russian. Callen does, you don't."

She searched his face for signs that he was dissembling, and found none.

"How soon are you leaving?"

"As soon as transport becomes available."

With nothing left to say, the awkwardness between them became palpable. Other than his gesture of support in the car there'd been no physical contact between them. She wasn't sure whether it had been the lack of opportunity or something he'd determined to be necessary, but it felt as though they were at an impasse.

So she looked at him and waited.

If this was an excuse he'd be leaving any moment now.

But he didn't go.

Instead he reached for her face.

"I'll be back as soon as I can," he said as he leaned in to kiss her.

Dispelling all notions that he was uncomfortable with what they'd started.

The kiss caught fire almost before it started, and until the reality of the situation asserted itself they rekindled the passion from that first night in Marseille.

But they were in Ducky's office with a door that had no lock. Hardly the place to get intimate. So Jen placed a kiss against his jaw and disengaged herself.

"You'd better go," she said as she pushed him slightly towards the door.

"I'll call you if I can," he said as he placed one last kiss to her forehead.

"That's what they all say," she said with a laugh.

Earning herself a wide smile in response.

But as he turned away she felt a huge need to say something more meaningful.

"Jethro .." she said, savouring the way the consonants rolled off her tongue.

"Yeah?"

He turned back with a slight smirk. Clearly not distressed she'd chosen this moment to use his first name.

"Take care. Come back safe."

The smile faded as he got sucked back into nineteen ninety-one. To the moment he'd said goodbye to Shannon and Kelly. Unaware that it would be the last time he ever saw them.

He was conscious that he was looking right through her, but had no control over himself.

Jen touched him lightly on the arm a few moments later, and drew him back into the present.

"Jethro?"

Confusion and guilt swirled in his brain. It wasn't Jenny's fault that she'd sparked the memory, but he wasn't ready to talk about this particular part of his past.

He made the effort to keep it separate and touched her face again - even though it was hard.

"See you in a few days."


	2. Chapter 2

_**Central Federal District, Russia**_

_**Several hours later  
**_

Gibbs raised a booted foot against the dashboard and pushed himself backwards. The truck they were in raised dust from the deserted roads – bringing back memories of his days in the Corps.

He glanced at his watch.

"We are almost there," the man said in heavily accented English.

Gibbs nodded and settled back into his seat, his eyes on their travelling companion. Yuri Petrov's appearance belied his age, but in the few hours they'd known him Gibbs had gleaned enough to know that he was resourceful. Someone to call on should the need ever arise. Apart from the occasional exchange initiated from the back seat, the drive through the Yaroslavl Oblast had been quiet. He smiled as Callen speculated out loud whether Valentina Tereshkova had been a role model for the woman they now knew to be Irina Biryukova. As he closed his eyes and slipped a little in his seat, he figured it was more than likely. Tereshkova had been an inspiration to women worldwide, not merely Russians.

His mind replayed what they knew. It had been established that the bullet which had ended Annie's life had hit from a diagonal angle. Bessie, as he still chose to think of her, had been in possession of an _S4M - _a small weapon developed in the early sixties for the clandestine work of KGB and Army Spetsnaz operatives. Known as _small special gun_s, and used often in assassinations, they let off minimal noise when used. Which explained why he and Jenny had heard nothing up in the attic, and lent credence to the theory that the sniper he was convinced they were looking for was cut from the same cloth. The question about whether Bessie been a _swallow _was not as easily determined, but he expected the informant they were on their way to meet would have the answer to that.

Among other things.

"Gibbs .."

Callen nudged his shoulder with a bottle of water, and he'd just reached round to take it from him when Petrov swerved without warning. Gibbs catapulted himself out of his seat even before the truck had come to a shuddering halt just inches from a tree.

"Did you catch any of the plate?" Petrov asked as he caught up with him.

"Just _78 _at the end."

"Then the car is registered in St. Petersburg," the Russian answered without hesitation as he reholstered his weapon.

Gibbs followed the cloud of dust for a moment longer, and then broke into a run towards the truck as the implications of being run off the road at this time of the night in these circumstances hit him full force.

Less than five minutes later he was resisting the urge to hit something as he took in the contorted body of their informant. He stalked past Callen and Petrov and drew a deep breath as he leaned against the wall of the small house on the outskirts of Uglich; his gut churning.

The thought that his quarry was one step ahead of him didn't sit well with him.

At all.

* * *

_**Jenny's apartment in Naples**_

_**Thirty-six hours later**_

"I'm too tired to go anywhere," Jen said as she tried to rub a kink out of her neck.

It had a been another long day in the field office. The paperwork surrounding their truncated stakeout in Marseille was neverending; Pacci and Ducky had alternated in hovering round her - clearly wanting to assure themselves that she was as fine as she claimed she was; and Decker was still trying to get her to go out for a drink with him.

"I'll see you in the morning," she said before putting the phone down and rolling over onto her side. She pulled the pillow towards herself and curled around it . She didn't want to spend time thinking about the fact that Jethro hadn't called as he'd said he would, or that there was some remote chance that she hadn't gone anywhere these past two nights on the offchance that he'd call the moment she stepped out the door. But most of all she didn't want to think about the little space inside her that felt empty. God, she didn't want to miss him this way. Or any way.

She was pulled from her thoughts by a knock at the door, and as she looked at the alarm clock she wondered who could possibly be coming to call at ten o'clock at night. For a moment she let herself hope that it was Jethro; because if it was Pat come to ask _again_ about his personal habits while on stakeout, she was going to shoot her with her own gun.

"Which part of _I'm tired_ did you miss?" she asked irately as she pulled the door open.

William Decker lolled against the hallway wall, a bottle of wine in his hand.

Definitely not the person she'd been expecting.

"Nice look, Shepard," he said as he leered at her for a moment before brushing past her and letting himself into her apartment. "You should come dressed that way to the office."

His eyes were penetrating and invasive, and despite the fact that she was wearing a knee-length satin slip Jenny felt practically naked, and had to fight the desire to wrap her arms around herself.

"To what do I owe the honour?" she asked carefully as she reached into her bathroom for a robe.

"Hey, don't put that on on _my_ account," Decker joked – and that was when she picked up on the tiny slur.

She tightened the belt just a little.

"Why are you here, Will?" she asked again.

"Your phone was off the hook," he said slickly, "and I wanted to talk to you."

"About?"

"Marseille," he said as he rummaged in the kitchen drawers till he found a corkscrew. "I thought you were too much of a lady to drink out of a bottle," he said when she made no move to help. "Gibbs must be rubbing off on you."

She didn't miss the slight derision in his tone either.

"Do you really have no i -"

"I thought we'd been through all of this," Jenny said as she opened a cupboard and pulled out two glasses. "It's in my report."

"I guess I'm asking if there's anything you left _out_ of your report, Jenny."

The name sounded shrill coming from his lips, and that was before she took into consideration what he was potentially asking into the bargain.

"If you give me a few minutes to get dressed we can go out for a drink," she said – suddenly not wanting to be in confined quarters with him.

"Too late. Wine's open now," he said smugly as he poured two glasses and led the way into the adjacent sitting room.

All her attempts to sideline him as they sat down were futile, and as he inched closer and draped his arm on the back of the sofa she seriously found herself wondering just how much he'd had to drink. He stared at her for a while. Seeming to weigh his words before saying, "if it had been up to me you would have gone to Russia. I pushed for you to go."

Jen's eyes narrowed as she focused on the subtext. It was common knowledge that the relationship between Decker and Gibbs was fractious at best, but just as she realised what Decker was trying to do she also realised that she couldn't afford to make an enemy of him over Jethro. Under the circumstances, drawing attention to the fact that their relationship had evolved beyond that of team leader and team member wasn't advisable – and she knew from a number of random comments that Decker had his suspicions. The man was capable of doing serious damage if he set his mind to it, and the fact that he was here at all was trouble all its own.

Which left her with the dilemma of what to do about the hand steadily creeping up the nape of her neck.

She knew she'd be out of time in about five seconds, and her mind spun. She wasn't interested in encouraging him, but was just as wary of dismissing him. She knew better than to take office politics lightly, because it was impossible to tell how things would change down the line.

"Looks like you need a refill," she said as she started to rise from her seat.

Decker pulled her back down and pinned her against the sofa. She could smell the alcohol on his breath as his mouth moved closer to hers. But suddenly he stopped and looked intently at her.

"You know I'd do anything for you, right?" he surprised her by saying as he ran a thumb over her cheek. "If you ever need anything all you have to do is ask. And _whatever_ it is, I'll help you."

Jen was so stunned that there was no time to pull away as his mouth closed over hers. She froze, conscious only of the fact that the man pressed up against her wasn't Jethro, and that she had no desire to be involved with him this way.

Milliseconds later she became aware of something else.

Her phone was ringing.

"Jenny?"

Emotion rippled through her as she heard his voice at the other end of the line, and for a moment she couldn't think of what to say. Not least because Decker was sitting right next to her and would most likely have opinions about why Gibbs was calling her just shy of midnight when he was out of the country. It made more sense to acknowledge that he was on the line than pretend it wasn't him.

"Gibbs," she said neutrally.

"You alone?" he asked, predictably picking up on the fact that she wasn't.

"Decker is here."

"Uh-huh."

"And?" Decker asked when she had returned the phone to its cradle a few moments later.

"They're on their way back," she said truthfully.

There was no reason to tell him that Jethro had said he'd be calling back in half an hour. She could only hope he wouldn't notice that her mood had improved considerably.

Decker nodded and reached for her again.

"Will," she said diplomatically, "if they're on their way back it will mean a long day tomorrow. We should really call it a night."

Decker's eyes lost much of their warmth as he got up from the sofa, but as she saw him out he turned towards her.

He touched her face again as he delivered his parting shot.

"Don't let him hold you back, Jenny."


End file.
